The Ballad of a Caged Bird
by CaptainKatie643
Summary: The lovely nineteen year old Carol Anne Cambridge has always been fascinated by pirates but her lady-like upbringing has forced her purpose in life to be the perfect wife and find a rich husband. When all goes wrong, Carol Anne finds herself face to face with the tentacle beard of Davy Jones himself. How will our fancy lady change aboard the Flying Dutchman? OC
1. Chapter 1

The Ballad of a Caged Bird-Part 1, Chapter 1

**Special thanks to my beta: redchicken888**

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTC but I do own this story and my OCs**

_I don't know what I want, so don't ask me_

_Cause I'm still trying to figure it out_

_Don't know what's down this road, I'm just walking_

_Trying to see through the rain coming down_

A Place in This World-Taylor Swift

**Carol Anne's POV**

"_Michael! Please! Michael, stop!" my mother screamed, pure fear in her voice. The clanging of pots and pans rang through the house as my mother continued to cry in pain. The angry shouts and yells that emanated from my father shook my bones, spreading terror throughout me rapidly._

"_You're a worthless whore, Mary!" my father yelled. Soft crying following the silence after his words. Silent tears fell out of my eyes, hitting the rough wooded floor of the dark closet. My mother had hidden me here to protect me from my father. "Where is that whelp of a daughter?" His loud boots seemed to get louder when he spoke of me. My eyes widened as the boot sounds did in fact get louder, getting closer to the closet._

"_Don't you dare touch her!" yelled my mother weakly from the kitchen where she had been beaten but my father didn't stop his pursuit. She whimpered in pain loudly even though my father wasn't near her. She was hurt badly._

_It was silent except for the slow footsteps of my father and him softly calling my name, taunting me, as he walked past the closet. I held my breath, my heart pounding in my ears. I was sure that he could hear it. The candlelight from my father was shining from under the door and I could see the shadows of his feet. They passed right by me and I breathed a sigh of relief. _

_Then the closet door was ripped open, a flood of light shining through, blinding me. I could only see my father's face that was twisted into a malicious smile. His hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and I let out a gut-wrenching scream of pain and horror as he yanked me out of the closet._

My loud scream woke me from my dream, causing me to bolt upright in my bed. I was sweating, panting and glancing around the room to assure myself that it was just a dream. My heart rate finally went down after a moment and I brushed my long pitch black hair out of my face. It looked just like my father's.

_I'm not in a dream; I'm in a living hell. _

The thought passed through my mind as I fondled the fraying sheets of my bed. The dream was a memory; I had been seven years old at the time.

My head whipped upwards as the door to my bedroom flew open and banged against the wall. In the doorway stood my fuming father, still in his wrinkled and disheveled clothes that he wore yesterday. He had passed out drunk last night. Fear filled me as he stalked towards me, red faced and clenched fists.

"You listen here, Carol Anne. I'm tryin' to sleep and you're screamin' your head off in here. Now shut up before I shut you up―permanently," he threatened, giving me one last angry look before leaving. He slammed the door on his way out.

I glared after him, huffing at his ridiculous anger before getting up out of my bed. _I was awake anyways._ I stumbled to my dresser, grimacing as I clumsily stubbed my toe against the hard wooden floor. I found my clothes needed for the day in my drawers before I messily threw them on my bed.

I am not the most graceful or the most organized person, both aspects of me that my parents despise. I'm a disgrace to them and they both make sure I know it―but they show it in their own way. My father expresses it with physical violence. My mother, on the other hand, rudely corrects me with an insult or by digging her nails into my arm, a habit she had picked up when I was younger. She never fails to run out of insults whether it's about my intelligence, my hair, my lack of balance, or just being me it doesn't matter. She only cares about my reputation for suitors. She wants me to be perfect―even though I could never be perfect in her eyes―for them. She just wants the money and fame, wants to brag about how her daughter was lucky enough to marry a rich boy.

She probably nags me the most about my manners and my clumsiness. I don't think she's able to go a whole day―let alone five minutes―without correcting me or belittling me. One day, my father remarked that I make myself look like a lumbering, one legged frog. My best friend, David, calls this a beauty flaw, considering that most people think I am beautiful. I doubt it though. My clumsiness is just another thing I am cursed with that makes my parents hate me all the more.

I was just about to strip off my nightgown to dress myself when my mother burst through the door unannounced. I looked to her as she always said to do, look at someone when they enter a room or are above you. Her blonde hair was a bit frizzy from her sleep. It was tucked into a tight bun that looked as if it were going to pull the skin off her face if it stayed like that. Her nightgown swayed at her feet as she closed the door behind her.

"I assume that you forgot about your courting today with Charles Avery, Carol Anne?" I flushed in embarrassment. "I expect you to bathe and then I shall prepare you for the courting. You will bathe quickly. I expect you to be back in your room in no less than ten minutes, otherwise there will be consequences. Is that understood?"

I nodded, staring into her hard and cold blue eyes. They were the ones I had inherited. They used to sparkle like stars when I was little, before my mother became mean. Well actually, she was always rude―she just got worse as I matured. When I was younger, she would make me look in the mirror and point out the stars in my eyes like they were something special. The light in her eyes had frozen over and turned into blocks of blue ice. Mine had faded into blank pools of bright baby blue. I could never find the stars anymore.

"Yes, Mother," I answered, my voice stoic and emotionless. My mother nodded once, curtly, before turning and striding out of the room with a ridged back and straight shoulders. She had criticized me about my posture over and over again, plenty times. But I didn't want to walk around looking like I had a pole against my back.

I sighed; she was right when she said I had forgotten about my courting today. I hated being courted even though it might mean a brighter future. It was just constant harassment from my mother about what to do and what not to do grated on my nerves. I just longed to be doing other things, rather than be shoved into a dress that squeezed me in strange places and dealing with being the perfect wife. It was absolutely horrible. I wanted a life where I could be free and not have to worry about stupid dresses and mannerisms.

The time was ticking by and I rushed to get a bath started before my mother had a heart attack. We were lucky to have a house with indoor plumbing. Our family wasn't exactly rich but we weren't exactly poor. Our house was medium-size with one floor, and honestly it could use some work. But instead, my parents spend money on my fancy dresses and other things such as indoor plumbing.

When the tub was filled with warm water, I stepped in. My muscles relaxed, my worn-out body feeling relief.

Even though we were a fortunate family, I still helped my best friend, David, with his work. His father was a merchant and David and his brothers had to help with the dock loading. When I was bored I would accompany them. Because of that, I had bruises on my body, scattered in patterns on my skin―some from dock work, some from occasions when my father had gotten too drunk. Bruises were more frequent on my arms while scratches and cuts, from injuries or my own clumsiness, varied.

I never spoke to anyone, except David, about my rough life at home. I didn't really have that many close friends in town―certainly none whom I could trust with my secret. Rumors spread like wildfire in this town. If everybody knew what my parents did to me, I would definitely get beaten badly by my father. I knew that some people suspected my secret, seeing the strange bruises that were always on my skin or the powder covering a black eye or a cut on my cheek, but no one said anything.

My finger traced a scar that still hadn't faded away on my bicep in a melancholy way before I shook my head, trying to get rid of all the bad memories. I grabbed the soap bar and began scrubbing myself. Once I was done, I got out, wrapping myself in a towel before skittering to my room. Luckily, I got there just before my mother entered the room; she was already in half of her skirts that she needed to wear for my courting. She always felt the need to be there for some reason but I never bothered to ask why.

She didn't speak to me as she dug through my closet for a dress and my other skirts. She tossed me a white shift and I quickly changed into it while her back was turned. My mother picked out one of my most fancy dresses and I knew that this courting would be important. She slipped my corset over my head before walking behind to start pulling the strings.

"Carol Anne, remember to be polite and do not slouch," she commanded. "It makes you look hideous and barbaric. Do not speak rudely to anyone and act as if you are the Queen of England who, of course, pleases all." I tried not to flinch when my corset made my chest constrict almost unbearably.

"Do not stuff your face; we do not need you fatter than you already are. Do not stutter―speak clearly when you talk. And most importantly…" she paused as she yanked the corset even tighter. "_…Do not fall." _

"Yes, Mother," I said, sounding a little wheezy. She didn't respond as she finished tightening my corset. She helped me into my dress that seemed to fit me perfectly. After my dress was on properly, she fiddled with the skirt before standing up to examine me.

"Carol Anne, I wish you'd stop eating so much. It ruins your figure," she sighed. I didn't respond. My mother just shook her head at me before leading me over to my bureau, plopping me down in a little chair and beginning to comb through my hair.

Everyone in town reassured me that I was not fat. Whenever I mentioned that I was on a diet, they said that I should be eating more and that I was as skinny as a stick. What they said had comforted me and I was no longer affected when my mother mentioned my weight. The opinion of the town had become more important than my mother's, for I knew that they would not lie.

I stared blankly at my reflection, my blue eyes staring back at my pale face lifelessly. I grimaced every once in awhile as my mother pulled too roughly on my hair or scratched my neck. I was relieved when she was finished. My curly, wild bed-head had been transformed into a delicate hair style―my curls being used to my advantage instead of being a nuisance. My eyes were wide as they took in my hair. Mother had never done such a beautiful job on my hair before!

My mother continued to stay silent and I didn't bother to break that silence as she started to smudge some of that rotten makeup on my face. She put some on my cheeks and my eyes. My lips were red enough to leave uncovered. Our maid, Sarah, once told me my lips looked like the color of a red rose or maybe a red carnation. I didn't get a chance to examine my own face before my mother interrupted me.

"Stand," ordered my mother and I stood, my back straight and my hands hanging loosely by my sides. "Well, I did the best I could. Hopefully Charles Avery will be able to see something of worth in you. I'll finish getting ready and we'll be on our way." I nodded. She turned and swept out of the room faster than lightning.

A bad feeling settled in my stomach as she mentioned Charles Avery again. I had heard about what a snob he was and how he loved to brag about his riches. He was far from what I would even consider marrying―if I even wanted to get married, that is―but there was no choice when my mother was involved.

My eyes caught the sight of some ivory high heeled shoes that had been placed on my bed. I groaned, but slipped them on my feet anyway. _If_ _Mother wants to put me into a higher risk of falling, so be it._

As I had put my shoes on, I noticed an elegant but unfamiliar figure that was in the full-length mirror by the wall. I stood up straight quickly, surprised by the unknown person in my room. A flash of fear spread through my chest at the thought of the stranger in my room. But the figure in my mirror copied my movements and I crinkled my eyebrows at her, realizing that this…_woman_…was _me_. I walked closer to the mirror and the woman did the same. I looked her up and down with a confused look. This woman in the mirror did not look like the girl I always saw.

This woman had a curved and defined figure, her face delicate and her ebony hair perfect. By just a glance, this woman looked flawless in every way, but I looked at this woman's blue eyes and saw a storm. It was a storm of emotions, with rain thundering down and lightening flashing, the clouds rolling in and out, bringing new feelings in each wave. The woman who stared back in the mirror was not me. Yes, our hair color was the same, our facial features were the same and we had the same life. But the real Carol Anne would not wear this dress and the real Carol Anne would not be wearing her hair pinned up in such a fancy way and the real Carol Anne would most certainly _not_ be going to visit a suitor.

The real Carol Anne was a girl on the brink of becoming a woman. Even though she was nineteen years old, it still appeared that she had some growing to do, and she still had some baby fat to spare. The woman in the mirror was a matured young lady and did not resemble me at all.

I cast a hostile glare at the woman, angry that her curves were so deep and her face so beautiful. The woman in the mirror mimicked me and I growled softly while resisting the urge to rip off my dress and jump into the sea to let it wash away this fake identity my mother had given me. Instead, I turned away to dig through my jewelry box. I picked out a pair of pearl earrings and put them in my ears before spraying some perfume on my skin.

My hands found my favorite piece of jewelry sitting in my jewelry box―a delicate rose pendant. David had gotten it for me for my birthday; my mother warned me that I was not to be "sentimental" towards him because he was not to be my husband. He was a merchant's son, and not a very wealthy one at that. I always reassured her we were just friends and that it was a token of his friendship but she never believed me and always frowned when I mentioned him.

I clasped the gold chain around my neck, watching the golden rose with a real diamond centerpiece glisten in the already risen sun. David told me that his father bartered something for the small diamond and gave it to him for his birthday. David then had a craftsman put it in a golden rose before giving it to me.

I tried to convince him that I didn't need the necklace. I couldn't take a real diamond from him! He was much less fortunate than I. But he insisted.

The memory of him giving it to me in a little wooden box with a bow on it and our argument flashed through my mind. I stared absentmindedly at the necklace, a light smile floating on my lips.

I was jerked out of my reverie when the sound of my mother's quick footsteps made me turn to face her in the doorway. She was dressed up as well and her hair was tied in a neat bun on top of her head.

"It's time to go―we need to get there on time or it's all for naught," she said and I nodded.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time, _really _looking at my dress this time. It was elegant, made of heavy cloth with a beautiful design all over it. The sleeves stopped at my elbows and the skirt swayed at my feet. The bodice made my stomach look sucked in and my breasts look bigger―all while making my waist tiny at the same time. I was amazed at how defined my body was, but another sharp call from my mother pulled me from my trance.

I tried to hurry out of my room without stepping on my dress but I did trip, catching myself against the wall before meeting my mother's annoyed face at the door. My father was nowhere to be found but I didn't dwell on the fact, following my mother out the door and onto the cobblestone streets of town.

Because it wasn't that far and my mother wouldn't miss a chance to flaunt me around town, we were going to walk to Charles Avery's house. I would have rather used our carriage, but my mother wouldn't want to get me all dressed up only to have one boy see me. I hated being stared at like a prize or some sort of trophy. It was uncomfortable. I was like her merchandise and the highest bidder―the richest boy in town―won by marrying me.

My mother stopped me as we walked off of our property and to the busy morning streets.

"Charles Avery is expecting us for breakfast, so there's no time for idle chit chat," she said, not bothering to look at me as she spoke.

"Yes, Mother." I began following her as she continued forward. I waited for a moment before falling in line behind her. It was a sign of respect and usually I was scolded if I didn't do it.

As we walked through the streets, my mother's head held high with a no-nonsense look on her face. Everyone seemed to move out of her way. I trailed behind her like a lost puppy, my hands folded neatly in front of me, my back straight and my eyes focused straight ahead. I could feel the stares as I walked. Girls were casting me dirty looks and whispering jealously, while the boys smirked and elbowed each other. I shot them all malevolent looks but I would have given them a piece of my mind but I couldn't speak bout without getting in trouble with my mother.

I absolutely hated prancing around in these frilly school-girl dresses! I wanted nothing more than to smack those leery boys upside their heads. Only God knows what my mother would do if she saw me behaving in such a _barbaric _manner. She always told me how boyish I was, how I had always wanted to fight and wrestle in the mud. Of course, I was to be a lady, not a pigheaded boy.

About half way through the walk, I saw David a little ways off holding a rather large sack of oats over his shoulder. Sweat was dripping down his face and soaking into his shirt. I instantly felt sillier than I already did, walking around in a fancy dress when I would much rather be sweating alongside David. HIs three older brothers were ahead of him while the youngest was behind him, the oldest carrying four sacks of oats, the second oldest three sacks, the third oldest two sacks. The youngest was the only girl in the family; she carried nothing but a ripe, red apple.

The oldest, John, was a muscular twenty-five year old with light brown hair. He was to be married to a woman named Stella. She wasn't the prettiest, or the smartest, but John chose her. Even though John was very handsome and wanted by most of the ladies in town, he chose the one that didn't want him. And that one was Stella. She was a kind woman with a good soul. I liked her.

The second oldest was Gregory. He was a skinny little thing, with his chestnut hair hanging in front of his eyes. His mother always pestering him about it, wanting to cut it but he wouldn't have that. Gregory was twenty-three and had yet to find himself a woman to marry, but I had heard rumors about a blacksmith's daughter named Evelyn. I asked him about Evelyn once. Amusingly, he just blushed and stuttered an answer while hiding behind his hair.

The second youngest and the third oldest was Jacob. He took after John with his growing muscles and handsome face. He was also very good with the women, but happy without a love at twenty-one. Jacob shadowed John, trying to follow him everywhere but John always shooed him off.

David was nineteen, same as me, with dark brown hair tied back into a short ponytail. He was a mix of all his brothers. David had a wiry build, the same leanness that Gregory had, with a bit of good looks from Jacob and John. He was shy like Gregory, but talkative with me.

Now, Mary Margaret, that child was something else. She's going to be no lady, that's for sure. She's tougher than all of the boys her age, can fight better, run faster and spit farther than any of them. She had the round, cute face of a girl but the muscular frame of her brothers. A leaf or two was always stuck in her long, brown hair. She always wanted me to brush it out because I always had "nice hair" as she put it. That was a relief to her mother, since Mary Margaret never let her touch it. Her eyes were the brightest green I had ever seen and they always were delightfully twinkling. I often thought of her as the sister I never had. I did love that wild child.

As soon as he saw me, David did a double take, wide-eyed. I chuckled. He took in my dress and my hair, a ghost of a smile playing at his mouth. I waved slightly and he waved back, taking a hand off the bag of oats. It fell to the ground. Jacob turned at the noise and began to scold him before following his gaze to look at me as well.

A knowing smile spread across Jacob's face. He nudged David's shoulder before saying something I couldn't hear. David glared up at Jacob, his cheeks reddening as he shoved him. Jacob erupted into laughter. John looked back at the two who had dropped their bags of oats and were now bickering as well as shoving each other, a teasing smile still wide on Jacob's mouth.

I hadn't realized that my walk had slowed until I was fully stopped, watching John yell at the two, who ceased their fighting to continue on. David cast me one last look before picking up his sack of oats and hurrying to catch up with the others. Mary Margaret trailed behind him while happily munching on the apple. She had witnessed the fight but chose not to participate, she knew better than to get trampled under her brothers.

A warm feeling spread inside of me as I watched this exchange. This…_this_ was how a family was supposed to be. Looking out for each other, having fun teasing. David always told me he wanted to be an only child and he wanted to kill his brothers and sister at times (not literally of course) but I never believed him. It must be nice to have someone to have fun with.

The four continued on their journey, going in a single file line with the oldest in the front and the youngest in the back.

"Carol Anne!" my mother's faraway sharp voice called. Looking back at David's family once more, I sped up to catch up with my mother. Even though I tried to be ladylike about hurrying, I was forced to pull up my skirts, stumbling on my high-heeled shoes. My mother's face looked disapproving. I slowed down and tried to walk as fast as I could. She gave me a glare when I reached her before turning and walking on.

It was clear to everyone in town that I was no lady. Everyone remembered how I was when I was a child. Even though I was being trained as a lady, everyone knew there was still that part inside of me that longed to get muddy again.

We arrived at the doorstep of Charles Avery's house but my mother didn't ring the doorbell just yet. Instead, she turned to me and smoothed my hair down, adjusting anything out of place before sighing like something was missing from me.

"Remember everything I told you. Be polite and don't fall," she said seriously, her blue eyes slicing through any confidence I had built up before we got here. I nodded sincerely, knowing how important this was to her. I fingered the rose pendant between my fingers as my mother knocked on the door. Taking a deep breath, I felt the corset restrict my chest movements. I released the air I had.

The door swung open and it felt like I was opening a door for a new opportunity. Whether it was a good one or a bad one, I wasn't sure.


	2. Chapter 2

The Ballad of a Caged Bird-Chapter 2

**Thank you to my wonderful beta: redchicken888**

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTC**

_Look at me, I will never pass for a perfect bride_

_Or a perfect daughter, can it be?_

_I'm not meant to play this part?_

Reflection-Disney's Mulan

**Carol Anne's POV**

An older man answered the door. He had tired wrinkles and baggy eyes, but he still looked like he was in good health. My mother put on her nice act. She smiled at the man, so I did, too, but my smile was warmer and more genuine. The man did nothing except cast us a bored look.

My smile faltered.

"Are you two Mary and Carol Anne Cambridge?" The man asked in a dull, deep voice. My mother nodded. "Master Henry and Charles are expecting you." He opened the door further and stood aside.

My mother walked in first, looking around the house like she was used to it, but I could see the bewilderment in her eyes. I didn't mask my awe for anything. The crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling enchanted me the most, glittering and shining like a Christmas tree. Everything was so fancy and delicate.

The sound of a heavy door shutting snapped me out of my trance. "This way," the man called, and my mother went in front of me as we followed him down a hallway.

I gazed at everything in wonder as we walked. Our path led outside and down a stone pathway to a veranda. The amount of plant and flower decorations made my eyes widen, but the man seemed to be unfazed. Once we arrived at a small white garden table made up of metal crafted in pretty designs, we sat in two of the four chairs that were there. My mother crossed her ankles and I fidgeted with my fingers.

"Master Henry and Charles will be with you shortly." He said, before nodding and turning to leave. When the man was gone, my mother straightened my back forcefully and adjusted every little thing she saw wrong on me. I just stared out through a window at the open ocean, daydreaming.

"…Carol Anne, are you even listening?" Her voice gradually filtered through my mind. I blinked, looking at her with a startled expression. She scowled.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you, Mother," I answered. She growled softly at me in annoyance, brushing a piece of invisible dust off my shoulder. The sound of footsteps silenced my mother just as she was about to speak again.

We both turned our heads to look find two people, one man and one boy, walking towards us. My mother stood up abruptly and I followed, much slower and much less enthusiastically.

"Mrs. Mary and Miss Carol Anne Cambridge," The man said, smiling at my mother. She smiled back as he kissed her hand, then turned and did the same to me. "You two look lovely this wonderful morning."

"Why, you're too kind, Mr. Avery." My mother giggled, sounding like a smitten schoolgirl. I raised an eyebrow at her. Something odd was twinkling in her eyes as she stared at Mr. Avery.

"Please, call me Henry." He motioned to the boy standing next to him and put a hand on his back. The boy hadn't spoken a word. "This is my son, Charles."

Charles Avery was a skinny thing, despite all the food he was surely available to. His brown hair was combed to the side in a very organized manner and his hands were behind his back, like he was hiding something.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cambridge and Miss Carol Anne." He said before kissing my mother's hand, then mine. I could tell that my mother was making notes about him. His manners were definitely something she had mentally written down, along with his fancy suit. "Father, why don't you take Mrs. Cambridge on a tour of the house and I can take Miss Carol Anne for a walk around the garden?" Said Charles Avery.

I bit my lip at the thought. _At least my mother won't be here to see me mess this up._

"What a grand idea, Charles. We can all meet back here for some tea and snacks," said Henry and I nodded just to make it look like I was excited for this. "Shall we?" Henry asked, holding his arm out for my mother to take.

"You have such a lovely home! It must have cost―" My mother's voice faded as they walked away, leaving Charles Avery and I alone.

"Why don't we start by the petunias?" Charles Avery suggested. I nodded; somehow my corset was tightening around me without anyone touching the laces.

I didn't really mind that he didn't offer me his arm as we started our stroll down the stone path. "This garden was constructed entirely out of plants and stone from the forests and jungles of the Americas. My father wouldn't have it if we used anything from England - he wanted to start fresh. Isn't it grand?" He asked, looking out across the large garden. I wished I had a fan.

"It is quite fascinating; I think that your father had a wonderful idea when he had this built. But doesn't he miss England? Surely he would want something to remember it by." I said, marveling at the size and color of a petunia. Charles Avery didn't bother to stop walking so I had to catch up with him.

"How could you miss England? The New World is truly a diamond in the ruff; it is a gold mine itself. England is old and outdated; the Americas will soon become a luxury. People will wish they'd have staked their claim of land sooner." He said in a tone that made me feel stupid. I nodded blankly as we continued our stroll on the path.

"So, have you been caught up in the economy of England these days?" He asked. I blanched slightly, not prepared for that question. But he didn't wait for my response anyway, not even bothering to cast me a look or a smile. "It is thriving these days. I can only imagine it getting better; my father has invested money in selling things from the Americas to the people of England. It is quite interesting how it works. Shall I explain it?" He asked, finally looking at me with a tight smile. I resisted the urge to sigh and smiled back tightly.

"Of course, Charles. It sounds very complicated." I said. I tried to sound interested but my agreement was all it took to get him started.

As Charles Avery droned on about selling goods and how they were shipped and what you should or shouldn't do, I let my mind wander. I gazed out at the sea and the beautifully arranged garden as we slowly walked. The chirping of birds and the soft wind provided me a relief from Charles Avery's non-stop talking. After he seemed to be done discussing the economy, he didn't stop the words tumbling out of his mouth.

"I had this suit made special; it is made by the finest tailor here in Port Newton. My father paid for premium silk and lace. He wanted the design and stitching to be intricate. He wanted nothing less for me and I could not have expected anything less. It could of course, be better - the tone of burgundy here seems a little…_dull_."

I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. It was a bit strange he was so interested in style but then again, Charles Avery was a strange boy. At least in my eyes; my mother thought otherwise.

"It looks absolutely wonderful, Charles." I smiled weakly but his eyes wouldn't meet mine. Again. He was too busy wiping off a speck of invisible dirt. "I don't think that the tailor could have done any better. Surely your father paid much for that suit. Who was it done by?" I asked, trying to get my words in before he went off on a rant again. My question sent him off on criticism about the poor tailor in town; he complained and complained, not once praising the man.

Multiple times, I opened my mouth with words resting on my tongue but I could not seem to interrupt Charles. He just wouldn't shut his mouth. I began to fan myself with my hand, the temperature rising, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to care that my mother would call fanning myself without a fan rude and disgraceful. Charles Avery surely didn't seem to care either. We walked around the garden a little while longer before a small, plump woman came shuffling quickly up to us.

"Master Charles, Miss Carol Anne, your parents are awaiting you in the veranda to have tea." The woman's voice was contrite and quiet. With rosy cheeks and a dirty apron, it was clear that she worked in the kitchen. Her round cheeks and stomach made her look like a cherub but her wrinkles and frizzy hair diminished that image. The woman had a kind aura.

"Come, Carol Anne. My father and your mother are waiting." He gestured in the right direction for me to walk. He talked to me as if I hadn't just heard the woman. It unsettled me that Charles Avery treated this woman so rudely.

"Thank you for the walk, Charles. It was delightful, the garden was stunning." I said but all Charles Avery did was smile tightly. I was a bit awed by this. Seeing how nice his upbringing must have been, I'd expect at least a 'you're welcome' or 'of course!'

We walked in silence. I was anxious to get to the veranda. I definitely knew one thing; I did _not _want to marry Charles Avery.

"There you two are! We were wondering what took you so long. Did you get a little caught up in getting to know each other?" Henry asked when we finally reached them. My mother smiled, but I could see her cold eyes searching my face, my dress, my posture, everything. I noticed that the table we had sat at was now cluttered with pastries, delicacies, fruits and tea. They had out a fine china tea set, which I found to be very beautiful with gold-rimmed cups and hand-painted flowers.

"Of course, Father. I was discussing England's economics these days with Carol Anne." Charles Avery said. I shuffled my feet, my feet slightly sore from wearing these heeled shoes.

"Shall we get our plates?" He asked, gesturing to the table. I agreed, as did Henry and my mother. As Charles filled up his plate, he didn't sit down so I assumed that either we weren't sitting down or we were sitting somewhere else.

I stepped forward to take my own china plate, but my shoes caught on one another and to my horror, I fell.

In a quick attempt to save myself, I grabbed the white tablecloth – but instead of saving myself, all of the food on the table came crashing down. It all happened in slow motion. The look on my mother's face told me that I would get a beating after this and Charles Avery's face was beyond disgust. I felt the tea splash all over me along with the frosting and jelly of all of the pastries.

I didn't move, even after the sound of breaking china stopped. I just sat with a shocked expression. Charles Avery immediately starting exclaiming his disgust, examining his clothing while Henry and the maid I had seen before helped me on to my feet.

"This is silk! How on earth am I going to get this stain out? A whole suit, ruined!" He wailed, continuing on and on about a little bit of frosting he had gotten on his pants, while I was _completely _covered in food. The look on my mother's face couldn't even begin to explain how angry she was. Henry wasn't anything but apologetic as he tried to wipe the jelly off of my dress with a napkin, along with the maid.

"I am so sorry this happened, Miss Carol Anne! Perhaps Hattie can clean you up in the kitchen and we can find you a new dress. I am so sorry that your beautiful dress is ruined." Henry exclaimed, helping me to my feet and not minding the icing getting onto his sleeves and skin. I nodded; thoroughly embarrassed for making a fool of myself like this. My mother looked even more horrified than I did.

"It's not your fault, it was mine," I cried. "I'm sorry for breaking the china and making a mess." The maid, Hattie, began to lead me off by my arm. Henry just waved me away and they disappeared from my vision as Hattie pulled me into the house. My heels made loud clicking noises throughout the seemingly empty house.

"You poor dear, so sorry for your pretty dress. You must have paid a fortune for it." Hattie said sympathetically as she tugged me into the empty kitchen. I noticed that she had an Irish accent. That was something she must have hidden when she spoke so softly to Charles. It was a bit funny to me; I had never heard an Irish accent except for one other time and it was alien to me. I was so used to English accents like most people in town.

Smells of the baked treats still lingered in the air. Hattie let go of my arm and began to fill up a bucket of water while a man walked in through a back door, wiping his hands on a rag while giving me a friendly smile.

"What have you here, Hattie?" The man asked, tossing the dirtied rag over his shoulder. Hattie finished filling up the bucket, then grabbed a much cleaner and softer rag before beginning to clean me up with it. I would have told her I could do it, but she seemed persistent and…honestly? I hadn't had someone take care of me like this for a while.

"Miss Carol Anne Cambridge. Master Charles invited her and her mother here this morning, and she had a little slip." Hattie explained. I smiled sheepishly again as the man chuckled. I could see Hattie pause as she wiped away some icing on my neck; it revealed a bruise that resembled a hand.

"Well I hope those treats tasted as good as they look on you." Laughed the man. I couldn't help but chuckle, a little relieved that Hattie had moved on to getting the icing and jelly out of my hair. Since the style my mother had done was ruined, I didn't mind when Hattie began to carelessly go through it. The man then began to clean up the kitchen, moving pots and pans around and cleaning the counters.

"I tried the best I could, but I'm afraid that you'll need to bathe to get this out of your hair," she said sympathetically. "I'll go get you a dress, dear. Can't have you going home in that ruined thing."

She abruptly walked out of the kitchen, leaving me with the nameless man. The man was still making a racket over there on the other side of the kitchen - I couldn't get in a word even if I wanted to.

Hattie returned before we could make conversation. The dress she held in her arms looked _much_ more comfortable and suitable for me than my mother's choice. "I'm afraid that this is far worse quality than what you're wearing, but it's all I can find at the moment." She said apologetically, holding the dress out for me to see.

The lower-class dress' cloth looked soft, a relief from my heavy fabric. The color was a deep green, the sleeves were short, and the bodice had a crisscross pattern on it, making it the most decorative part of the dress. I smiled and took it from Hattie's hands.

"It's perfect! Thank you, Hattie. I truly am sorry for making a mess and breaking all that china."

Hattie just waved my words away as if they were smoke in the air. Ushering me out of the kitchen, we arrived into what looked like a guest room. _I'm to change my clothes in here, _I supposed.

"Would you like some help, dear?" Hattie offered. "I don't think you'd be able to get out of all that yourself." I sighed and nodded, annoyed at the thought of having to go through the whole process of undressing. It would pay off in the end though.

Hattie helped me out of my stained dress. Luckily, my corset and shift had been saved, so she just had to put the dress on me. I asked her to loosen my corset and she obliged. I was more than relieved to be able to fill my lungs completely! The dress fit perfectly.

"You look nice, Carol Anne," Hattie said sincerely.

I got a strange warm feeling when she said that. It wasn't said like David's compliments, or a stranger's in town, or even my maid's, Grace. It was a simple statement, like something a friend would say to a friend.

"Thank you so much for your help, Hattie." I bundled up my dress into a ball and shoved it into the crook of my arm. My mother would probably kill me for that, but the dress was ruined anyway - unless Grace could miraculously get the stains out. _Unlikely. _

Hattie just waved my thanks away while straightening my dress out and flattening out its wrinkles. It seemed as if she knew more about dresses than any woman working in the Avery household, not that there were a lot. No woman actually _lived_ in the Avery household except for Charles Avery's sister. She visited every once in awhile from Port Royal.

"Think nothing of it, dear. How about your hair? Will a simple French braid suffice?" She asked me. I nodded while sitting down on a nearby stool.

Hattie carefully pulled the pins out of my hair, letting it cascade down my back. She complimented me on my hair as well. The warm feeling returned to my stomach and I smiled softly before thanking her. Unlike my mother, Hattie's fingers were gentle and soft against my scalp. I relaxed. I was almost a little sad when she had finished.

"There you go, dear. You look as good as new," she said. I ran a hand lightly over my braid, enjoying the strange feeling of the crisscrossed hair.

"Thank you again, Hattie. You have been so much help." Hattie began to pull me towards the door of the room. I stumbled, but Hattie steadied me with a hand on my elbow and a soft smile.

"You're welcome, dear. Let's just get you back to your mother." She said. I felt my stomach clench at the thought of my mother. She was going to be so angry with me; I can't even begin to imagine the punishment she was going to give me. Hattie pulled me by my wrist towards the veranda but Henry, my mother, and Charles were waiting in the foyer for me. My mother had a look of pure rage in her eyes. I could see them burning like little blue flames. I avoided looking at her after seeing that.

"Thank you, Hattie. That will be all." Henry said. Hattie nodded, but I stopped her by a soft touch on her arm. She paused and looked at me, confused.

"I will make sure to return the dress and…_thank you_." I said. Inside, I thought, _There aren't enough times I can thank this woman_.

She smiled and nodded. I could tell that she wanted to say something, but she couldn't - not in front of her employer. So Hattie turned to leave. I felt alone, as if I were left with people who only were against me. Charles Avery looked aghast; I could tell he was very upset about his clothing even though barely anything was coating him.

Henry stepped in to the conversation. "Again, I am so sorry for your dress, Miss Carol Anne. If there is anything you need, just ask." I gave him a weak smile.

My mother's eyes began to blaze even brighter in anger, even as she looked ashamed for Mr. Avery. I refrained from grimacing as she began to usher me to the door, digging her nails into my shoulder.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality, Henry. But really, we must be going. I'm so sorry for my daughter's awful mistake. Perhaps we can talk another time?"

My mother's nails dug even further when she mentioned my fall. I _had_ to wince that time, but no one seemed to notice. Henry nodded in understanding. Charles Avery picked at his clothing in distaste while he sent me a glare full of hatred.

_I guess that means this courting has failed. _

"Of course, Mrs. Cambridge. It was wonderful having you; I would love to see the both of you again." Henry smiled, opening the front door for us. My mother quickly pushed me through it, obviously in a rush to leave the house. I stumbled on the stairs but caught myself on the white iron railing.

"Yes, Henry. It was a pleasure." My mother said shortly while walking down the stairs to join me, effectively signaling that the conversation was over. Henry stood in the doorway watching us with a dumbfounded expression before closing the door.

My mother's hand was still on my shoulder, her nails so deep into my skin I was worried about how she would get them out. She dragged me off of the street. I could tell I was going to get the beating of a lifetime.

I tensed as she glared down at me fiercely, with an expression of pure hatred in her eyes. I flinched as her hand slapped me across the cheek and was a bit surprised when there was nothing more; perhaps it was because we were in public.

"I am so disappointed in you, Carol Anne." She said, her tone monotone and stoic.

_Is that all? _My eyebrows drew together in fear and confusion. She had never done so little to me whether it was physically or verbally - which meant this meant that she was beyond furious. I assumed that because I had messed this up so badly, she was past rage. She was past comprehension of anger…and I was about to be on the receiving end.

My mother spoke again. "You are a shame, Carol Anne. Let's go." With that, my mother turned on her heel and began to walk down the road in an eerily calm way.

I bit my lip in nervousness, not quite sure if it was the best idea to follow her, but I had no choice. I looked like a lost puppy once again, walking behind her. I kept having to remind myself to straighten my back or keep my head up, all the while feeling the confused stares of the gossiping women of the town. Their high pitched giggles at the soiled dress in my arms made my cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

Then there were the pitiful stares of others, no better than the judgmental ones. Still, my mother walked with her head held high so I followed, trying to maintain some of my dignity. The walk back home seemed to be much shorter than the walk to Charles Avery's house. But the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach was much larger and still growing. When we arrived home, my mother ripped my dress out of my arms as soon as the door closed.

I flinched but stayed still as she surveyed it, evaluating the damage done. Her face was twisting even further and I braced myself for the onslaught.

"You have absolutely _ruined _this dress, Carol Anne! What were you thinking?" She yelled, throwing the dress down onto the ground. "I told you to be careful and what did you do? _What did you do?_" She paused to let me answer, but before I could open my mouth she answered herself. "You fell! _Of course, _you fell. That's all you ever do! I have absolutely no idea where this clumsiness came from but I am sure glad it didn't come from my side of the family." She went silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I really didn't mean―"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she mimicked. "That's all that ever comes out of your mouth, isn't it?" I shut my mouth. "I swear, Carol Anne; you just ruined your chance of ever getting married! Charles Avery was the highest ranking bachelor in the whole town and here you are, tripping over your own feet and acting like a barbarian! You are absolutely hopeless and I have no chance of ever finding you a husband. You will be lucky enough to marry a shoe shiner! You are an embarrassment to this whole family, Carol Anne!" She yelled, her voice getting louder with her rage.

"What the hell is going on in here?" I heard my father boom. He entered the foyer with an agitated look on his face. He had obviously been woken from his sleep. I gulped in nervousness, knowing that my father would have no mercy for me.

"Your worthless daughter just ruined her chance of ever marrying a husband and making her parents proud," my mother explained. I saw the anger on his face. It was almost amusing in a way that wasn't funny that he was so angry about something that he didn't even know about yet. He stormed forward and I flinched back but held my ground against him as he grabbed my shoulders, squeezing them roughly.

"You stupid piece of shit! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you do anything right? Can't you just make your mother and I happy for once?" He yelled right before he slapped me.

My mother stood back with her arms crossed and her face blank. I gritted my teeth and tried to hold in the tears from the pain of his hand and their words. My father raised his hand again and I leaned back out of instinct, but kept still. He didn't like it when I tried to protect myself.

"Michael," my mother said, her calm voice cutting through his rage. My father's hand didn't move but I could feel no relief. "That's enough," she said, but that only seemed to make him angrier.

"Shut up, Mary! This is your fault, too. _You're_ the one who had this damned girl. You could have given me a son!" He turned to hit my mother instead of me.

I shouldn't have been relieved that he hit my mother instead of me, but I couldn't help it. I could see tears of pain pooling in her eyes while she kept her eyes on the ground, silent. "Get out of my sight, girl," my father spat. Hatred was clear in his voice.

My eyes continued to weep and without another word, I turned and ran out the door. When I couldn't hold it in any longer, tears overflowed and streamed down my cheeks. My face burned. I put my cool hand on it, which was slight relief, at least until my hand warmed.

I tried to contain my sobs as I made my way to the beach, sitting down on a slate-grey boulder. It was one of the largest rocks in its cluster. This place was a spot that me and David came to when we met up, or when I wanted to be alone. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I tried to console myself.

Their words had hurt. Being called worthless and hopeless weren't exactly the ideal words you want to hear from your parents. My parents' insults shouldn't have hurt me as much as they did, but coming from my mother or father, they cut deep - right to the center of my heart.

This level of reaction from them had never happened before. My parents had called me things and hit me a few times, but they had never gotten _this_ angry at me. I definitely messed this up, and there's no way to fix it. Not with someone like Charles Avery, and even if I did marry him, my mother would still hate me. I felt another wave of tears coming on but I managed to suppress them, calming myself down and sniffling.

I jumped at the sound of a high pitched squeal.

"Carol Anne!" It was the sound of Mary Margaret's voice! I turned my head to see her brown curls bouncing as she ran towards me, David walking a distance behind her. I gave her a watery smile and quickly wiped my eyes.

"Hey, Mary Margaret," I greeted as she ran into me, wrapping her arms around my neck before examining my face.

"Are you alright, Carol Anne?" She asked. Her eyebrows drew together in a way that made her look like David. I chuckled and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

"Of course, Mary." I answered. She pulled away, seeming to forget about my tear streaked face. She had now taken on the expression of a frustrated child with her lip poking out in a cute way.

"My name isn't Mary, _Carol_. It's Mary _Margaret_." I smiled for real that time. She hated it when I called her Mary instead of her full name, so to get me back she had started calling me Carol. She didn't say anything else and turned to run into the sea, fully clothed.

I morosely watched her play in the sea spray. When David finally reached me, I only glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I knew that he could see that I had been crying as well as the red mark on my cheek but he didn't say anything for awhile. We just sat there on the rocks with the sun warming us and Mary Margaret's shouts of joy filling the air.

"I saw you this morning," David finally said, breaking the silence. I refused to look at him still, keeping my eyes on the sea. "You looked beautiful." I bit my lip, looking down at my lap and not speaking for a moment.

"Thanks." I whispered, my words almost inaudible but I knew he heard me.

"Where did you go?" He asked, sounding a bit interested in what I had to say but I knew he was waiting for the opportunity for me to tell him what happened. He knew me well enough to distract me with something else after my mother or father had beaten on me.

"To Charles Avery's house. He was courting me." I answered, wiping my eyes and nose vigorously. I felt a little better with the comfort of a friend nearby. Finally, I turned to look at David and his eyebrows knit together in worry as he took in the purple bruise slowly rising on my cheek. "It didn't end too well." I tried to smile but it came out as a grimace.

"Who did that to you? Are you alright?" He asked, blurting the questions out as if he couldn't hold them in anymore.

"My father. David, I really messed up this time. I can't fix it; Charles Avery hates me now because I got some damn frosting on his silk suit." I laughed humorlessly, wiping a tear away that slipped out of my eye. David chuckled but let me continue. "My mother has had it. She said I ruined any other chances I had with suitors and that I'm…_worthless_. After such a stupid mistake, I think she's right." I sighed, smoothing a hand over my hair.

"Carol Anne, you aren't worthless. Your mother was just angry. I'm sure you'll find another suitor - there's no way that you won't. Who couldn't like you? As for Avery, who cares about him? He's just a rotten, spoiled, little rich boy. If he's mad at you for a bit of frosting on his suit then he doesn't deserve you." David reassured me, slipping me a soft smile.

I returned it, feeling slightly better with his words. I could still feel myself straining underneath the stress of the situation, however. "Don't worry about it. Don't listen to them, Carol Anne. You're better than that - I'm sure they'll get over it."

I nodded but I knew that they wouldn't. "Thanks, David. You really do help me get through these things." I said, wiping my eyes one last time and sniffling. I stood and brushed any dirt off of my dress, before giving a weak smile to David. "I should go now; I don't want them getting any angrier at me." I began to walk away.

"Goodbye, Carol Anne." David called after me as I continued to walk back towards my house.

I felt a little bit better after David's reassurance, but there was still a knot in my stomach that told me things were only going to get worse.


	3. Chapter 3

The Ballad of a Caged Bird-Part 1, Chapter 3

**Edited by my wonderful beta, Daniella, (redchicken888)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTC**

_An angel sent to fill the space,_

_That was once in my heart_

Molly Pasutti-I'm Blessed to Call You Mother

**Carol Anne's POV**

I woke to the smell of freshly baked biscuits and ham, the scent slowly wafting through the crack under my bedroom door. I could hear the faint sizzling sound of cooking on the stove. As I realized that Grace was here, a small smile spread across my lips. Grace is our maid - she comes every other day to cook, clean, shop at the market or take care of me. She has been working for my parents ever since I was two years old, and became sort of a mother-figure to me where my biological mother lacked. I could ask advice of her about things I couldn't say to David.

Pushing my sheets off me, I hastily grabbed a comfortable robe and wrapped it around myself. I was about to run out of the room, but my face in the mirror made me pause. The smudged, tear-stained makeup from yesterday was still there, and Hattie's French braid was tightly knotted in my hair. I thought it still looked pretty, though. I knew that Grace didn't mind how I looked, so I rushed into the kitchen.

Grace was standing there in her usual clothing: a peasant dress with a bonnet over her hair. Her ivory skin was slowly aging. When she turned to smile at me, I could see happy lines around her warm brown eyes. I grinned back and ran into her open arms. As her arms wrapped around me, a wave of comfort soothed my mind. A simple hug was something my mother never gave me, but I didn't mind. I had Grace.

"Good morning, my Carol Anne," she said softly. We stood hugging for a few seconds.

"Good morning, Grace," I returned before we pulled away. Grace ran her hands down the sides of my face, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"What happened to your face, girl?" She asked. At first, I thought she was talking about my makeup, but her cool hands touched the cheek that my father slapped. I felt my stomach sink at the memory. Before I went to bed last night, I had checked my face in the mirror and found a cut on my cheekbone from where he had smacked me. It wasn't too bad. Hopefully people wouldn't notice it. My eyes fluttered down to the floor and my hands fidgeted.

"Well, yesterday, I was courted by Charles Avery. And I fell…which messed everything up. And then my parents got mad at me. Father hit me pretty hard," I mumbled, avoiding Grace's eyes. Grace knew about the things my parents did to me but she didn't tell anyone. I assumed it was because she didn't want to get fired.

She sighed after my explanation, guiding my face up with her soft fingers. "Do you want to help me with breakfast?" She asked simply. I nodded. Grace smiled softly and then turned back to the stove where a few pieces of sliced ham were cooking. "Pull those biscuits out of the oven for me, girl."

I did as she said, using a thick rag to prevent burning myself. Unfortunately, I burned my finger anyways. Grace thanked me before giving me a cold rag to put on my burn.

Internally, I smiled. I liked to compare my mother and Grace sometimes, you know. To see the differences between them. The contrast of Grace's kindness and my mother's coldness is interesting, to say the least. When I burn myself, Grace gives me something to soothe it, while my mother would probably scold me and leave me to take care of it.

Not that I minded taking care of myself - I usually prefer it, but a little motherliness was always something I longed for.

"Grace, do you know Hattie? She works for Mr. Avery. I met her yesterday. She was very kind; she helped me get a new dress after my…fall," I said, curling around a warm biscuit in my hands.

"Hattie Baker? Yes, I know her. She's very kind, I've talked to her every once in awhile when we run into each other." She eyed my biscuit. "Don't play with your food, girl." I followed her correction, taking a bite before placing it back on a small plate.

"When's that little Mary Margaret coming over again?" Grace continued. "She fancied those cinnamon rolls I made and she was quite an interesting girl."

I laughed as I remembered the last time Mary Margaret came over. I had offered to watch her for a little while, since no one in her family was available. My mother went absolutely mad and struggled to keep up with cleaning up Mary Margaret's mess. The energetic little girl was bouncing off the walls - and my mother _hated _it. She preferred the quiet and calm children. Mary Margaret was the complete opposite.

Luckily, Grace was there that day to help keep everything in order and occupy Mary Margaret. We must have made dozens of cookies and cinnamon rolls that day. By the time Mary Margaret had to leave, half of them were gone. I had fun, nonetheless, and Grace did as well. My mother? Not so much.

"I'm not sure. I doubt Mother would let her back over," I said, my smile fading. I heard the sound of soft footsteps and I turned my head to see my mother walk into the kitchen.

_Speak of the devil,_ I thought.

She looked frail and much older than she usually did. Her hair was still tied back tightly like usual, but something was different. I could see her wrinkles more clearly. Her eyes looked exhausted. Perhaps she didn't get enough sleep last night?

Grace and I had gone silent as my mother entered the room. She didn't say anything either, not looking at me. I could tell that she was still mad about yesterday.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cambridge. I hope you slept well." Grace greeted her in a cheery voice, but I could tell that she was just acting.

"I've had better nights, Grace." My mother sighed, going to get a glass of water.

I looked down at my half-eaten biscuit, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore, so I stood. The legs of the chair scraped against the floor and made an unsettling screeching noise. I didn't bother to push my chair back in to the table.

"Would you excuse me?" I asked. My tone made it more of a statement. My mother didn't even bother to look in my direction while Grace watched me with concerned eyes.

I hastily left and walked back to my own room. I wanted something to distract me. I should probably start on cleaning that dress, but the fabric was so delicate. I wasn't quite sure if it needed to be cleaned a special way or not - _I'll probably leave it for Grace to clean_, I thought. She might be able to get all the stains out; if she couldn't, I'd just have to get rid it. My mother would never let me out in public in stained clothing.

Instead, I decided to clean the dress I borrowed from Hattie the day before. I would need to return it hopefully sometime today, but tomorrow was always an option.

When I had gotten a tub full of water set up and some soap, I began to clean the dress. It wasn't in need of a lot of scrubbing or cleaning – I had only worn it for a half of a day and it wasn't very dirty. I hung it up to dry when I finished, satisfied that I managed to do _something_ right.

Suddenly I jumped. "Carol Anne, you must go to the market with Grace. Get dressed, she's waiting for you." It was my mother's voice from behind me. I turned and only caught the hem of her dress disappearing from the doorway.

I sighed. She was still really mad at me if she refused to be nearby for long. Usually, when she was angry like this, she would forgive me after a couple of days, but this seemed different. She was more distant and detached.

I decided to shake the thoughts about my mother from my mind and went inside to get ready for the market. I was able to dress myself this time - my corset was still on from yesterday. Putting on a comfortable dress that was still attractive, I mused about the fact that it was a better-quality and nicer dress than what Hattie gave me. Still musing, I combed my hair and stared at it. I was thinking about leaving it down but out of habit, I pinned it up into a loose bun.

When I met Grace at the door, she just smiled at me, stroking the pieces of hair falling out of my bun before waving for me to follow her. I walked beside Grace instead of trailing behind. Unlike my mother, Grace let me have a sense of equality.

As we made our way into town and into the markets, I spotted a group of my "friends" standing outside one of the boutiques. They weren't exactly the friendliest or the nicest people in town, but they were in my social class and age group, so naturally I was expected to befriend them - or so my mother said. The group was five children: two girls and three boys.

There was Anna; she was the richest out of all of us. She was a prissy and spoiled girl; I guessed that she would make a good couple with Charles Avery. Mabel was Anna's best friend; they were inseparable and had almost all the same interests. They even dressed alike; they might as well be sisters. The boys were Robert, Thomas and Edward. They might as well as be replicas of each other. They all acted the same, laughed at the same things, did the same things and had the same style.

That's another thing I did not like about my lifestyle. Everyone I knew was the same; had all the same mannerisms and actions. What was the point of doing anything if everyone else was doing it?

I also spotted David among them. It didn't really surprise me, but it I suppose it would be a bit strange to someone else that Thomas could be good friends with David. Their friendship had begun when a merchant they had stolen from was searching for them. David hid Thomas and some of his friends on his father's boat, which had been my idea. Of course, since I am a girl, David got all the thanks. Thomas knew that he owed David a favor but instead, he just made up for it by being friends with him.

I didn't think that David particularly liked being around Thomas and his friends, but he did it anyway. Robert and Edward were Thomas' best friends and they didn't mind David being around. Social class didn't really matter to them as much as it did to girls.

I was jerked out of my thoughts as Grace stopped by a man hauling some fresh fruits and began to haggle a price with him. I stopped with her.

"Carol Anne!" I heard Anna, the prissy girl, call. I internally winced before turning in her direction, putting on a tight smile. I waved back and, a beat later, groaned softly when she motioned me over.

"Grace, I'm going to go over with my - my _friends _- for a little while," I told her. She just nodded quickly before returning to her heated exchange with the salesman.

I began to walk over to Anna, Mable and the other boys, dreading the conversation. Their talk was always boring, pointless or insulting. I could see Anna eyeing my loose hair while giving me a strange look. Mable just gave me a somewhat condescending smile. Both of them had their hair tucked into bonnets, gloves on their hands and all their skirts on. I was the opposite. The boys had been too distracted in their conversation to notice me until I walked over to them.

"Hello, Carol Anne! It's great to see you again!" Mable exclaimed as I reached them. The huge smile did not leave her face.

Anna began to fan herself. "You must have _so much _to tell us," Anna said suggestively. My eyebrows drew together in confusion. By now, the boys had stopped talking to listen in on our conversation. They didn't bother greeting me, but I didn't really expect them to.

"About what?" The corners of everyone's lips curved upwards a little at this, except for David. I scanned all of their faces, bemused, until Anna finally answered.

"Your courting with Sir Charles Avery!" She exclaimed and my eyebrows rose in realization. "I heard that it went terrible, Carol Anne." Anna gave a small giggle. Mable joined her. Their derisiveness made my cheeks flush, the awful taste of anger growing on my tongue. The boys had also started to laugh with the exception of David, who was giving me a sort of pitiful look.

"I heard that you threw a piece of cake in his face and then ripped his entire suit in half," Robert laughed. I felt my cheeks grow even hotter. I glared at the laughing faces of the group around me, my fists clenched in anger.

"I thought that she had slipped and taken Charles down with her," Edward contributed, making everyone laugh harder. Anna and Mable weren't even trying to hide their smiles and amusement any longer.

"I did not! It was a small accident!" I insisted. Then I realized that trying to defend myself was useless. When I realized that no one was listening to me, I decided to stay silent and wait for them to quiet down.

"Charles overreacted, it was nothing," I said when they had finished laughing. "Besides, I didn't want to marry him anyway." Anna and Mable gasped in horror, while Edward, Robert and Thomas lost interest and carried on with a different conversation. I noticed that David wasn't saying anything; he just stood there with his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground.

"_Carol Anne! _How can you say that? Sir Charles Avery is the richest bachelor in town and he was kind and courteous enough to call you to his house. He even courted you before me!" Anna said as if it was one of the most shocking things she had ever heard. She put her hand on her chest and Mable nodded solemnly in agreement.

I rolled my eyes at their drama. Luckily, they didn't see it.

"Anyway, Carol Anne, you should never say that again. Sir Charles Avery would be a wonderful husband; it's just too bad that you ruined it." Anna softly fanned herself as if I were the issue in all of this. And as always, Mable did the same as her.

My fists were balled in anger again and I was about to unleash my tongue, unable to keep my words of hatred in any longer. But Thomas spoke up before I could.

"So, did you girls hear about that pirate attack in Port Mary? I heard that it was brutal. Almost no survivors were left and everything was burnt to the ground. No livestock, no gold, no silver, no goods were left behind," Thomas said as if he were telling an adventure story. Anna and Mable were wide eyed and perhaps a little pale. They were terrified of pirates like any normal woman would be, but I? I did not fear pirates as much as I should.

"Really? That's amazing! I wish I was a pirate. Swashbuckling and wearing eye patches," Edward said with an excited smile. Robert and Thomas announced their agreement with the same amount of excitement. In contrast to the boys, Anna and Mable looked at loss for words, something that both of them were never really known for.

"Me too. I'd like to not ever have to take a bath. I could get tattoos and maybe a hook for a hand," Robert said, holding his hand up with his pointer finger in the shape of a hook. I was torn between rolling my eyes and smiling at his idea of becoming like the fairytale Captain Hook. I knew that neither of them had any intention of becoming a pirate.

"Aye, you bilge rat!" Edward shouted at Thomas and then they began to engage in a pretend sword fight, looking foolish the whole time. Robert and David watched, but only Robert was enthusiastic and joined in the fight. David just stood back with a slightly bothered look on his face.

"Pirates are absolutely disgusting," Anna declared. Her nose was wrinkled in distaste as she tried to ignore the playing boys. It was clear that she didn't approve, and neither did Mable.

"Horrid things, aren't they? Liars and thieves, they all are." Mable did just as I predicted, siding with Anna. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hold my opinion in knowing they would despise it. David had been listening to our conversation and I could see a shameful expression cross his face. I couldn't dwell on it though and focused on what Anna had to say next.

"Vulgar and filthy, I bet they haven't worked a proper day in their life. They don't deserve a penny of what they get." Anna spoke with indifference and turned her nose upward as if her words were final. She always talked as if her opinion was the correct one - I was sure that no one had told her otherwise. My mother always saw her as an angel and I'm sure other parents did as well.

"Maybe pirates aren't so bad. I think that they are rather interesting," I spoke up and both Anna and Mable looked even more horrified than they did before. The boys overheard me and paused in their swordplay to comment.

"A girl who likes pirates? How strange," Thomas commented, causing laughter to erupt from the other two boys. My eyes flicked to the ground in embarrassment but I convinced myself to hold my ground and ignore their laughter. Anna and Mable had stricken expressions on their faces; I could tell that if they didn't think I was crazy before, they thought I was crazy now.

"Why don't you just go put on a pair of trousers and grab a sword while you're at it," Robert smiled and another round of laughs came from them. I gritted my teeth together in anger and spoke up.

"Girls can be pirates! There's nothing wrong in that," I argued. I could see the girls shift uncomfortably on their feet. I noticed that David was watching me with a twinkle of admiration in his eyes, something I completely didn't anticipate.

"Well, when pigs fly, I'll admit that girls can be pirates," Edward said. Before I could reply, I felt a hand gripping my arm tightly. A delicate, gloved hand.

"Carol Anne, that behavior is hardly appropriate," Anna hissed and I stared at her angrily. "What would your mother say? You are a lady, are you not?" I glared at her, my fury flaring up and my face turning positively dangerous.

"I hardly believe that it's for you to decide whether _my_ behavior is appropriate or not," I snarled at her, ripping my arm out of her grip. I gave one last glare to both Anna and Mable's shocked faces before turning on my heel and walking back to where Grace used to be.

My steps didn't falter when I saw that she wasn't at the same stand, since my eyes quickly found her walking out of another shop with a loaf of bread. I joined her. I knew that Anna and Mable were watching me, but I didn't care. Grace gave me a strange look, seeing my angry expression.

"Are you alright, Carol Anne?" She asked me. I glared at the road. My rigid back slowly relaxed as I forced myself to count to ten, not wanting to say something that I would later regret.

"I'm fine," I responded with an -end-of-discussion tone.

Grace took the hint and began to walk back in the direction of our house. I followed her, calming myself down as we went. The walk home was short and silent; a slight tension was in the air surrounding us, but I refused to acknowledge it.

I found myself lost in my thoughts again. Who did Anna think she was, anyway? She was just like me - barely an adult, and yet she thought she could tell me if my behavior was appropriate. But I guess it could be said that I overreacted slightly. I was just upset because I heard enough of my mother's complaining at home and it was just too much to hear it from a girl my age.

I found out as we reached the house that Mother was still ignoring me. Father was gone, but I was glad for that. I couldn't be sure if he was still angry at me or not. Grace had gone to the kitchen to put the food away, so I followed her, feeling sorry for snapping earlier.

"You want to talk about what happened, Carol Anne?" Grace asked while putting the now empty basket back where it belonged. I sighed tiredly, getting up from my spot at the kitchen table to follow her as she walked into my room. She had another basket in hand, ready to collect all my dirty laundry.

"It was just Anna and Mable; they just said some things that frustrated me. It was nothing. I overreacted," I explained, brushing it away. Grace began to toss my skirts and other clothing items into the basket. I joined her in the process to help.

"Ah, I see. Don't let those girls mess with you, girl. They're just some no-good, spoilt brats," Grace said. I chuckled at her language. Mother would never permit those words in her house except if they came from my father. I looked at Grace's soft smile, immediately making me feel better. I knew she would always be on my side in the end.

"Can you tell that story again, Grace?" I asked, putting a couple pairs of scattered shoes into my closet neatly. I might as well clean up anything lying around. The corners of Grace's mouth turned up slightly into a half-smile.

"What story, girl?" She asked, but she already knew what story I was talking about. My own smile tugged at my lips and I paused in the quick cleaning of my room.

"The one about Davy Jones and the _Flying Dutchman_," I reminded her, trying to imagine what Davy Jones' tentacle-filled face must look like. With a shudder, I kept picking up random things lying around.

Davy Jones was my favorite pirate story Grace told me. I never got tired of it, even though I had grown out of bedtime stories. Listening and telling stories was one of my favorite things to do. Stories possessed the power to take you anywhere, let you do anything. It was like a dream but you could control what happened. Mother never liked my overactive imagination - whenever I told her a story, she says that my mind was too wild and I needed to be thinking of more important things.

"Well, alright," Grace sighed like she was tired but I knew she didn't mind telling it to me. Grace had told me this story many times, perfecting it along the way. She never hesitated or stumbled over a line. As she started the story, she began to help me make my bed. There was already a content smile on my face.

"Once, there was a man named Davy Jones. He was much like you and I, but he _loved_ to sail. He sailed the seas day and night, not ever visiting land except to stop for supplies. And even then, his crew fetched it for him. Davy Jones remained on his ship at all times. It has been said that he's never stepped foot on land since he was born. Davy Jones was a man of the sea and he loved it very dearly along with his ship, the Flying Dutchman. One day, he came across the sea goddess herself, Calypso."

I tried to picture Calypso's face this time. I wasn't sure what a sea goddess looked like, but I secretly imagined smooth scaly skin, hair as fluid and silky as water and a dress of coral and other sea life. I also imagined her to be very beautiful.

"They fell in love, the sea and Davy Jones." I smiled at the thought of it. Grace took a deep breath before continuing. "But after awhile, the sea goddess had to leave her love. She asked him to do her one favor, just one deed. And he agreed - he would do anything for his beloved goddess. Calypso bestowed on Davy Jones the duty of ferrying the souls who died at sea over to the afterlife, and he willingly complied. As I said, he would do anything for his goddess.

"There was one condition to this duty. Davy Jones could not go on land for ten years at a time and when he could, it would be only for a day. And so, for a decade, he did as his goddess asked, ferrying the souls lost at sea. When those ten years were up, Davy Jones set off for an island, an island named Isla Cruces. And he sat on the beach, waiting for Calypso to come so that they could be together before he had to leave again. But Calypso did not come."

Grace's voice changed dramatically as the darker part of the story came closer. I could feel pity for the poor Captain. It must have been horrible to not see the one you love for ten years and then when they could finally see you again, they didn't come. It was a tragic tale and the one who made it up must have had a heavy heart.

"Davy Jones became so enraged and heartbroken that his goddess did not love him anymore that he ripped out his own heart. He put it in a chest, locked it up and buried it on that very island. Davy Jones was so very angry that he didn't continue the duty bestowed upon him, and with that came a consequence. He slowly started to become part of the sea himself. His beard became the tentacles of an octopus. Rumor has it that Davy Jones himself still sails the seas with his imprisoned crew, harvesting souls to get his revenge on the goddess."

Grace finished the story with a dramatic tone which made me grin. She had said it in a way that made me feel as if Davy Jones was coming for me. But of course, I knew that couldn't have been true. Davy Jones did not exist. Grace returned the smile and picked up the basket full of dirty clothes to wash them.

"Do you ever think that meeting a pirate would be interesting? Especially someone like Davy Jones?" I asked, following her as she walked to the kitchen. There was a tub filled with water there, ready with soap to scrub my stained dress. Grace froze and gave me an incredulous look.

"Oh heavens no! Pirates are filthy things who do nothing but evil! Why on earth would you ever think of meeting one? They'd have your hide before you could say hello," she exclaimed, sitting down on a stool beside the tub. "I swear, girl, you have nothing in that beautiful empty head of yours," she teased with another smile and I returned it. Grace, always joking, reminded me of that when I did something that wasn't the smartest. Sometimes she would call me her beautiful empty flower pot.

"Well, maybe the said pirate is friendly. I'm sure that they would have great stories to tell," I said, sitting down on a chair as Grace began to soak one of my corsets. "And I'm sure Davy Jones is friendly, or at least sad. It would be wonderful to ask about his pirate life since he has lived for so long." I went to help Grace with my garments but she just swatted my hands away, shaking her head at me like I was a child again.

"Davy Jones is but a myth, girl. He is far from real and I don't know of any friendly pirates. All have done evil and all will be punished," she said, grabbing a brush to thoroughly clean the clothing item.

"I suppose," I sighed, resting my chin on my hands while watching Grace's hands in the soapy water. "Do you think being a pirate is thrilling? With all the adventures you'd have, you'd be quite experienced," I pondered, looking to Grace's face again.

"Carol Anne! You must stop thinking this way!" Grace scolded, pausing in her cleaning. "Who is filling your mind with these dreadful thoughts? Do you know how much trouble you'd get in if someone heard you talking about this?"

I sighed again, looking down at the table in a bit of shame. "Yes, I know. I'll stop," I said, mostly for Grace's sake. I earned a relieved smile from Grace's creased face, so I knew I had been forgiven.

"Now, get over here, girl. Help me with these skirts." I joined her like I had tried before and this time, she let me. We began to scrub at the stains of cream and icing in the fabric. "I swear, you'll have to buy all new clothes if you keep bathing in pastries," she teased and I chuckled, working at a stubborn spot of red jelly.

"I can't help my clumsiness," I said, seeing Grace smile as we continued washing my clothes.


End file.
